The Problem With Paramore

I have reached that point in my life where everything I do is tinged with a hint of nostalgia. I know this because I spent 90% of my day today listening to the music of my early teen-hood. 

Listening to the music of your past is always a strange experience. Sometimes you realise it wasn't half as good as you thought it was - I'm looking at you, Cobra Starship - and sometimes you wonder what the hell you were doing - why did I like Family Force 5 so much? (Oh wait - this is why!) But oftentimes, you just end up indulging in your past self. You think about the you that existed when you spent all day listening to those bands, or dancing to those music videos. It's an amazing and, even, enlightening experience. It's almost an education in yourself, and how you got to the place you're at now. Well, at least it is for me.

When I was like twelve to fourteen years old, I had like a semi-scene/emo phase. I was deeply into the music - but not so much the look. I read Kerrang! weekly and bought Rock Sound every month. My favourite bands were at least slightly obscure - Hollywood Undead, Breathe Carolina, Anarbor etc - but, like all the emo kids, I listened to those classic favourites: Fall Out Boy and Paramore. Today was my FOB-Paramore nostalgia day. I listened to tons of their old stuff, and watched all of the Youngblood Chronicles (really weird shit...) and, whilst listening to Paramore, I started reading stuff, which I kinda wish I didn't. Let me explain.

So, when I first got into Paramore, I really loved the Farro brothers. I don't know what it was about them, I just found the two of them, with their deep, dark, sorrowful eyes, so damn endearing. So when I found out, after my phase had ended, that the brothers had left the band, I was kinda heartbroken. I still thought Taylor and Jeremy were the more attractive ones (my fourteen-year-old self was a little more shallow than current me...) so it didn't matter to me much after I heard. I thought it would be bizarre to have a three-person version of the band, but they'd had a thousand different line-ups in the past so it didn't bother me much.

Back to the present: So I started reading the Spotify bio of Paramore and I wanted to read Josh's leaving statement. What he said in the statement didn't really surprise me at all. I don't know what it was, but I always got the feeling that Hayley was apart from the rest of them, and, after Riot!, I always saw Josh and Zac as somewhat separate to the rest of the group. It was like there were two different groups then Hayley. Because of this though, it did surprise me that Taylor was technically in the band before Hayley. 

Anyway, I then looked to the Paramore website for information about past-Paramore. But there was none, and that really irked me. I could understand it from one angle. But, at the same time, I think it's incredibly immature to ignore a moment of conflict in your past. What they said on the website's 'About' page wasn't so much an about the band as it was a separation from their former lineup. Let me give a few examples... Jeremy says the album is "a lot happier and brighter album that people might expect... We've wanted to write songs like this for so long, but weren't emotionally ready. Now we are." He's virtually saying: "hey, we wanted to write happy songs before but Josh and Zac were such deadweights that we couldn't do it. We just weren't happy with them here, but now we are!" Harsh, right? And then there's Taylor's little "we really mean it when we say this album feels like the record our band was always supposed to make", as if the Farros were holding them back from making it that whole time. I mean maybe they were, but it just seems like a bit of an attack at them. Lastly, it's the fact that Hayley says "the best way to give it a name was just to call it what it is. This album is us." You see, what she's saying is that, Paramore is Hayley, Taylor and Jeremy. No one else. Not Josh. Not Zac. Just those three. They named their album Paramore to show everyone that they - not Josh and Zac - are Paramore, and that really pissed me off.

The problem with Paramore, as they exist now but also as they always have been, is that they are immature. They have failed to acknowledge the breakdown of their existence as a unit, and they have failed to acknowledge each one's individual impact on the situation. There was no apology to Josh and Zac, there was no appreciation of them being part of their past. It's depressing. They should be able to say that they've changed since the Farros left. And they should acknowledge the influence they had on them. It's like having a leg chopped off and going on as if it was never there. Because people know it was there. People remember it was there and people loved and appreciated it as part of the body as a whole and now it's not there and there are many, many questions. 

Honestly, I didn't want to listen to their new music and enjoy it after realising all this - but I unfortunately did. I just hope the three of them get their act together and talk about that formative period that made and grew them to what they now are. But for now, back to Fall Out Boy.

Every Love I've Never Had

Liam

Liam was my first crush, when we were in primary school. We were in the same PSHE group, the only ones from our class. So were his two brothers, who made fun of me for a while. I was a small, chubby black girl, and he was a skinny, blonde, white boy. We were never meant to be, and even when we became friends and he stood up to his brothers for me it was never meant to happen. But then he moved to Boston (the one in Yorkshire, not America) and I basically never saw him again, I never had a chance. He knew I liked him, but he didn't like me back: the beginning of a long line.

Morgan

When I started secondary school, I started seeing new faces. Morgan's stuck out to me. He was in the year above at our brother school and was covered in freckles, dark-haired and blue-eyed, one of the prettiest guys I'd ever seen. I added him on Facebook, I don't know why but I did and somehow this resulted in me having his number? We texted a fair bit but it never really amounted to much. I think he might have been dating someone else at the time. A couple of years later and he got really bad acne, but I still thought he was beautiful. I think it was the eyes... Sigh.

Tim

Tim was friends with Morgan. Sort of, I think. He got my train and my tram on the way to school and had amazingly blonde hair that really always needed a bit of a trim. But I was into that at the time I guess. I was strangely intrigued by him, but more attracted to his younger brother who travelled with him. Because I showed such interest in them both, my friend/travel buddy thought I had a serious crush on Tim. So she wrote a poem on a card, added some confetti and gave it to him saying it was from me. Possibly was the most embarrassing situation in my life. He was weird about it. We never really spoke of it, or spoke for that matter, again. That was the end of that. Then he started dating one of my friends in the year above, which was greatly awkward, but I loved her so it was fine. Another one bites the dust.

James

The thing I had for James is probably one of the most constant things about me. It kinda happened throughout the time of Morgan and Tim, but it stuck around for like two years. When we were in year eight, he was dating one of my good friends. We befriended each other over our love of certain musicians (although I'm pretty sure I only got into them because of him) and Nike 6.0s. Of all the people in my life, he affected my music taste most severely over the time we talked. But, as with many of my crushes, we only really spoke on Facebook. I wasn't brave enough to go up to him on the train, surrounded by all his friends. It was always me initiating conversations, but he was nice enough. We'd talk for hours after school, and I loved it. I just wanted to be around him. But then, after a year or so, my feelings for him got too serious. I couldn't speak as friends, I think I stopped speaking to him altogether. How he felt about me affected me seriously, in ways I couldn't explain. And as he dated different people, I sat around never telling him how I felt. It enraged my best friend who kept telling me to suck it up and do it, but it was never the right time for me. My mental state got so much worse because of it and I remember just crying for the dumbest reasons, but knowing it was because I wanted to be able to love him. One day, I just decided enough was enough and I made myself stop liking him. I just thought it was damaging me too severely to let it go on so I gave up. And strangely it worked. It was as if I had been forcing myself to like him the whole time. We haven't spoken since, though we continued to see each other every day for three more years. I don't believe he ever felt half of what I felt for him for me, which made it all the more easy to finally get over him.

Ethan

What I felt for Ethan was strange. I was bizarrely attracted to him for some pretty stock reasons - he skateboarded, played drums, played bass, was a good artist: all things I find sexy - but it was problematic because I'd known him since I was a kid, yet we'd never spoken. Besides, we went to church together. My mum already knew him! It was a difficult situation to decipher. My best friend at church was really close to him though and kept grouping us as similar people. At some point she decided we would start helping each other improve on our instruments by giving each other songs to learn. I asked him what he'd like me to pick for him and I remember him sending me a message saying "anything you want" and it made my heart melt. That was the moment I knew I was into him. I wanted to get closer to him so I asked him to help me with an art project, which never really happened. But that summer, we all went camping together for a week and over that week, as often occurs, we got really close. By day three, he was laying on my lap and this kid asked if we were dating, which was a strange moment because I almost wished we were when I knew he didn't care. By the end of the trip, one of our supervisors even thought he was into me. And I wouldn't have disagreed at that point; he was incredibly flirty with me. But as always happens in situations like this, when we got back we barely spoke. And I missed him. I tried to make situations arise, and we were on a friendly level and it was pretty great. About a month after we came back, I was in Oxford on another trip and I got a message from him that basically just said "I love you x". And I automatically assumed it was a prank, I wasn't about to assume it was reality. So I replied "Lol okay Ethan okay". I wanted to ask him about it for ages but I couldn't pluck up the courage till one day I finally Facebooked him with my assumption. It was one of the best conversations we'd ever had. Such high levels of banter and sarcasm like I'd never experienced before with someone I was into. It was like the first time I was truly myself when talking and it felt great. I wanted, at the very least, to be good friends. And a couple of months later with some friends, I realised how much I did. So I texted him again and let him know. But it was too late. He was now dating his best friend, and had been for a few months. She was the one who sent me the weird message (apparently) and I got some more weird messages after that. We're still friends, but he's been a little more vacant lately and totally absorbed in his girlfriend during summer. I'm not into him anymore, but I don't believe this is the end to our story. I still have hope for us, but while I'm at uni and he's in his last year at school, our whole relationship is on the back-burner. I might see him this weekend, and I hope things can be as good as they were before.

Kids

I cannot fathom how any human on this earth manages life with kids. 

For the last week or so, I have been staying with my family in Boston. My uncle, whom I absolutely love, is now a parent to two little girls who are universally believed to be "the cutest". Except by me of course. 

Now, don't get me wrong, I love them. When they want to be, they can be super sweet, and the younger one - now four years old - has the potential to be absolutely adorable when she wants to get her way. I can absolutely deal when I only have to do a few things for them, like make them some food or read them a book. But, see, the problem is at a time like right now, when their parents have abandoned us and left me in charge. 

For the first hour or so, it was great. They were watching the Lego Movie and were so wonderfully absorbed in it (despite the fact that it was at least their third viewing this week) that I was able to silently slip off and make myself breakfast and a cup of tea, even enjoy the movie myself. Great, right? It was. Fabulous. Until about the last half hour when their concentration waned a little bit, and I found myself telling them to stop doing this and stop doing that and I started to get irritated.

Then the movie ended. A game was created. Put the sofa seats in reclining position and slide down on cushions. Uh, no! No. Firstly, that causes terrible structural imbalance. I know from experience. It could topple the whole sofa onto them, and I do not want to be responsible for that shit. Secondly, yellow cushions on a dirty ground is unacceptable. So I made them stop. It took a bit of effort but they stopped sliding. The cushions were still on the floor, though. So I picked them up.

Afterwards, one of them went to get some animal cookies. I decided that a few would be okay. Then she dropped one on the floor. Instead of being normal and picking it up to put it in the bin, or eat it, or whatever, she stepped on it. Obviously, I berated her and told her to put her cookies down and pick up what she had dropped. She told me we needed a broom and I agreed so she went to get one. But, being an inept four year old, her idea of cleaning up was spreading it further. I ended up sweeping it all without a dustpan and had to pick up the pieces by hand. Meanwhile, the older sister had went to get her own cookies. Then came the moaning about how the younger sister had had her cookies stolen and other such things. The rest of the cookies got put on top of the fridge. To be honest, this is my universal solution. All I wanted was for them both to stop and shut up, so I gave them books and told them to sit down. Unfortunately, this solution was only useful for about five minutes. Ugh. 

Next, we had the saga of the lost Play Doh cup. One of them had stolen the Play Doh cup for her tea party game - which is irritatingly taking place on my bed - and convinced the other, who was looking for it so that she could put the Play Doh away, that it was a different cup So we spent forever searching for the initial cup, with various problems and arguments relating to dumb stuff like some Minnie Mouse glasses - which were consequently confiscated and put on top of the microwave - and a ballerina Barbie. They aren't even good toys! Fight over the Lego for God's sake!!! I eventually gave up and made them both put everything down and look for it. We never found another one because, obviously, there was never another one.

Currently, one of them is going through my bag and asking me what things are for. *passes me my lip balm* "Read it!" "Intense Therapy Lip Balm SPF25" "Is it for adults?" "Yep." "Put it on! What colour is it? What does it feel like!? Let me put it back." *passes me my tissues* "What's this for?" Like, are you serious? Are we doing this? The other one has made a strange Lego shape, clearly inspired by the movie and is shouting about it. Really, children? Really?

I don't know. I had thought about having kids but after this debacle of a morning, I'm second guessing my second guess. In case you hadn't realised, I really do not want kids.

I'm certain it's worse right now for me because they know I'm not the absolute authority. I'm not their Mom, and I'm not their Dad so what can I really do about their arguments and misbehaviour? I can threaten "Time Out"s but really am I going to go to through with them? I can shout at them, but I can't really do anything serious. As much as I say, "I am in charge", the level to which I am is really rather debatable.

If I have taken away anything from this traumatic experience, though, it's never to have more than one kid. Or, if I do, to make sure they are different genders because having two kids who want the same thing constantly is exhausting. But until then I will stick to my perfect life mantra, "I hate kids".

The Last Few Days...

So, I have wonderful news.

The other day (July 6) I received my IB results. Let me tell you the story of that day... It was insane.

First off, it has to be said, I didn't let my parents know that it was results day. I was scared shitless and they always seem to up my anxiety levels so therefore I thought it best for my own sanity to leave them in the dark a little bit. I remained vague whenever they asked me how far away the day was. However, I did tell my aunt, mainly because I think I would have died if I was the only one in my house going through this mega-insane level of stress for a day.

So my mum woke me up for church that morning and as soon as she did, the phone started ringing. She picked up the phone whilst in the room and spoke to a friend. The news, which was assumed because it was so early in the morning, was that a friend of my parents had died. This friend lived in Reading and had known them since they first moved to the UK so it was pretty intense to find out. She decided that they would probably spend their evening driving up to Reading, since my dad would be away on business from the day after and they therefore wouldn't have a chance the rest of the week. I still said nothing. I thought it would be better that way because I could tell them once I had recovered.

At church, my mum was in charge of creche so wouldn't be coming to the service with me. I knew with the lack of sleep I had the night before (two to three hours max.) that I would be a hysterical mess so I stayed with my mum. No kids showed up so I spent the hour or so playing basketball, which was good and distracting. That day also happened to be the annual barbecue at church, which required the same hall for seating. After a while, we started setting up just to be of some use to someone. All the while I was texting my friend, just as panicky as I was, about how soon results were. 

Once the service was over I went to meet up with my friends. I felt like I constantly had the most serious case of the shakes, it was awful. Luckily, I ended up speaking to one of my older friends about results and university and other such etceteras which made me feel somewhat better about it, but also worse. She told me about being accepted to an Oxford course that she didn't want and ending up going elsewhere. All I could think of was how badly I wanted to get into my firm. Not that King's is a bad uni, I just could never picture myself there. It was comforting though, I liked speaking to her.

Anyway as the barbecue went on, I was wary of the time. I knew my results would be released at 2.45 so made sure I had left by 2.15. The tram came quickly and by the time I got home I was a ball of anxiety. I picked up my laptop from my room and headed upstairs. There was a bottle of rosé next to my bed and I downed all the remnants, my fear levels making me feel close to vomiting. I loaded up the website and typed in my details (which I had actually lost the day before. That freaked me the fuck out.) then sat there for a while unsure what to do. I distracted myself by checking out lookbook and replying to some texts but it was becoming harder and harder to keep myself from thinking about the results, after all, I was now in the final few minutes of the countdown. So I logged in, a few minutes earlier than I planned just to adapt myself to the site's interface.

Then, the fear hit me. So hard. I had to get away so I hurried back downstairs and started acting like nothing was happening. My aunt spotted the time and looked at me both alarmed and sympathetically. It was 2.45 now and she was questioning why I wasn't checking my results. Silently though, because my parents were still around and she was keeping the secret. I was escorted upstairs and after a good few minutes of psyching myself up and taking deep breaths, I clicked on the link that read 'Results'. I scrolled down the screen straight away, not caring about my individual marks... I just wanted to know my total! I saw a 7 while I was scrolling past though and was mildly relieved. But I finally found it. 40 points. I got 40 points!

I was so fucking excited and all because I did it. I got 40 points out of 45! I had never felt more relieved in my life. It was literally the best news in my life ever. After such a monstrously stressful day, it was such an amazing feeling to know that those two years of my life had not been wasted. And to know that I had got into UCL. It was only confirmed today but I've done it, I'm going to UCL and I'm doing the course I love and I'm going to be able to go to America for a year and hopefully my friends will make it there too and it will be amazing.

Basically, that's my news. I'm going to UCL. I got in and I'm secure. I know what I'm doing for the next four years and I feel so excited about it! I'm looking forward to doing what I thought I couldn't, what I expected I wouldn't manage. Life is fabulous right now and I'm going to be in the clouds for the rest of the summer. EEEEEEEEEEE excited!

An Open Letter to All Feminists in the Wake of the UCSB Shootings

So, today I was doing my semi-annual tumblr scroll - a far cry from the days when I used to be the typical "tumblr all day err' day" kinda teen - and noticed a lot of super feministy posts to which my response was obviously WOO FEMINISM but as I scrolled further and further down my dashboard I realised where these posts had been initiated from. They started, mainly, after the news came of the killing of six students at UC Santa Barbara by a student, who for media want of brevity has predominantly been described as a rich virgin kid who failed to get what he wanted and sought to payback "blonde sluts" for their rejection of him. Since I am a serious fan of psychopaths and their minds, for the last few days I have been reading his "141-page manifesto", a phrase used in almost every media outlet, which according to various sites is quite simply a tirade against all the many females who made this young man, Elliot Rodgers, feel undesirable (oh, hello there).

At this point, I am really sorry to say, I had a moment of 'woah feminism, hold up', because, in some cases, I just was not with these girls at all. One thing that irked me was that a male had said to one of these tumblr people that they were using a serious violent crime to support their argument, which yes was quite obviously was what was happening, but I personally, having read what I had of his life story (45 pages in) could see so many more reasons than male entitlement to his feelings towards women. These girls, advertising themselves as feminists, made clear that a feeling that he was owed ownership over a woman was what drove him to such a violent act. But I disagree. Elliot Rodgers' actions were a simple case of the bullied becoming the bully. We see it all the time in school playgrounds, but as children age and grow into teenagers and then adults, it's saddening to say that those pent up feelings, contained for so long can release themselves as violent bursts of rage. That is exactly what the world has seen in Elliot Rodgers' crime.

That is not to say that there was no misogyny in his words. He was an angry boy, and it seems as if all of that anger was directed towards women, starting from his imposing stepmother Soumaya and continuing on to the girls in his college until his murder of two females there. Interesting that, actually: he killed more males than he did women. So even though we, as a society, have concluded that he was a woman-hater and he was a misogynist who wanted to see women crushed, it clearly is not totally true. Elliot Rodgers also wanted to kill males, males that he perceived as better than him, perhaps. I do not know enough about his roommates and the other males he killed to say that for definite, but from what I have read about Elliot, he had rage towards the males around him who were (in particular) taller than him, and generally who were more physically fit and able-bodied than him. Understandably, Rodgers felt hard-done-by by the universe. It's a feeling that we all feel at some point; how come this other person can get something brilliant that I cannot just by nature? Why do I have this illness whilst other people can stay healthy? Why, even, am I not born the gender I feel? Rodgers question to the universe, quite simply, was - as a child - "Why am I worse at sports than all these other boys even though I try twice as hard?" And then as puberty hit and sexual realisation occurred, the question grew into "Why do these mean boys get the girls that I love when I am nothing but cordial to them?" These are both perfectly acceptable questions, and I am certain that other males around the world ask this exact same question.

So, what we as a society should be asking ourselves is "Why did Elliot Rodgers feel as if he was owed these things?" We, as feminists, cannot simply blame this boy and say that he felt entitlement to the female body. Because as much as we may want to believe that it is a trait of the general male population that we should just blame them for, we cannot; it is our problem too. Both genders have instigated this by the simple expectations of males. The larger problem at hand is the characterisation of the male gender and what happens when a few outliers secede from this by nature. When Rodgers was young, he notes in his "manifesto", he would cry when he felt jealous. From a young age, boys in our culture are taught to not cry or show any emotion except pure rage. Young Elliot would have been told to stop crying and to grow up and perhaps even to "be a man". He was unable to engage in sports like football and basketball and later he found that he was unable to participate in the sexual conquests that perhaps his peers could. From earliest childhood, Rodgers failed to display the traits that he was expected to as a male and the consequent bullying he received due to this created the problems that escalated to the situation at hand.

So as we talk about the case of Elliot Rodgers, I urge you all to see a human, a boy who had gone through incredible pain through his life because he could not live up to his society's vision of a male, not just an example of male entitlement. Perhaps, if he lived in a less masculinised society, if he had had a less American ideal to live up to (that is not to say we should blame solely American culture, but the sort of women that he singled out in his writing show that he was predominantly attracted to the often unachievable and unattainable Hollywood archetypal woman, and also that he wanted to look like the cool, white, blonde kids he saw at a young age) perhaps then, Elliot Rodgers would be fine right now. Maybe if he had grown up in Portland, where his whole city wanted to be kept weird, or if he hadn't had the social pressures of movie industry families and excessive wealth surrounding him from a young age, or if he had learnt to accept himself as an outsider, this crime would have never happened. I truly believe that, had Rodgers waited it out a little longer, he would have found someone perfect for him. As far as I have seen, he was not an unattractive boy but rather a boy who had been taught all his life to live up to a certain ideal and to funnel his emotions into rage instead of creativity, a toxic concoction of life experience that led up to this painful mass murder. I am not saying that what he did was not wrong, but I do feel sorry for him. He is yet another product of a society that remains unwilling to accept deviations from the norm and a long-standing need to fit in. He was not a monster, just a boy who could not see the worth in himself and went from blaming himself for his lack of worth to blaming others. If only he had spent a minute in my life, I think he would see that the world was not that bad. 

Rest in peace, Elliot Rodgers, may your soul find its long-awaited solace.

Disclaimer: I wish for all those he killed to also find their solace, but have not mentioned them because this piece is not about them. They were jerked away from their world with a violent tug and it is awful to think that it is simply because someone could externalise their self-hatred to such an extent that it took the life of others. Yet another anti-gun argument. If Rodgers still lived in England, likely he could only stab a few people who would have live to see today, as in the stabbing at that Pennsylvania high school where twenty people were stabbed and all are expected to survive. America, your right to bear arms is hurting your own children and if you do not see this and want to make a change, I cannot understand how selfish you are being.

The Case for Jess

I have never been more in love with a character in anything EVER more than Jess from Gilmore Girls.

There is virtually no way for me to explain my way out of this at all.

I am not a gushy teenage girl. I don't fall in love with people just because they are mildly attractive and have a "cute smile". Granted, I began watching the show at about the age of eleven so when I was introduced to Jess, I was probably a bit of a gushy teenage (well, pre-teenage) girl but... And I am not the sort to fall in love based on a perceived notion of character. But as I re-watch Gilmore Girls, I have grown to realise how well I, personally, would get along with Jess, and further, how well he and Rory got along. He would be my perfect guy, I think. Rory and I, we aren't quite on the same levels so I even think that Jess would teach me something, which is what I personally look for in relationships. If a Jess existed in my life, I would do all I could to get him.

But that isn't to say I disagree with the arguments against Jess. Yes, I agree with so many people, Jess is a terrible person half of the time. He is ridiculously rude to so many people and messes things up for Rory regularly. Yes he is disrespectful and ungrateful for much of his time in Stars' Hollow. But I still cannot understand those who ship Dean and Rory or Logan and Rory over Jess and Rory. I think that believing that either one of the former were Rory's perfect match shows a real misunderstanding of human nature and character, indeed of Rory's character. However, I by no means believe Jess was Rory's perfect partner. Jess was just the best that the show drew up.

One thing I really have noticed whilst watching is the similarities between Jess and Lorelai. I know she absolutely hated him at first, but I could see real parallels between conversations between Rory and Lorelai and between Rory and Jess. Their banter, their cultural references, their understanding of each other; they were perfectly in tune. For some reason, I don't think that any other Gilmore Girls fans see that. If they like Jess, they like him because he had the most in common with her or because he kept up with her, but in my opinion, it's their conversational sparring that makes me want them together. In my mind, they make sense. What is perfect within Rory and Lorelai's relationship is drawn on and reflected in her relationship with Jess.

Obviously, one thing about Jess that is terrible is his inability to interact with Rory's family and friends. In fact, it isn't much of an inability; it's more of a nonchalance, or an unnecessary aggression towards them. Jess did not really care about Rory's family. Yet, when he returned in the sixth season, it was quite obvious that he had grown out of his deviance. He suddenly - or maybe not so suddenly - respected all that Luke had done for him, to the point of giving him a cheque for all that he owed him. Jess matured, and made a life for himself. He went from nothing, from flunking out of school and severing ties with those he maybe should have loved and respected, to having a published novel and an artistic clan, to being a success. I don't know about anyone else but that reminds me very much of Lorelai. Lorelai messed up her teenage years, but she fixed it. She succeeded and thrived, just like Jess. I think that it is impossible to say that, having seen the similarities between Jess and Lorelai, it makes sense. Rory and Jess make sense.

Another thing, I know this probably means nothing to anyone else, but to my mind, Rory is a guy's name. I would never name a girl Rory, and have never met a girl called Rory. Same with Jess: I have never met a male Jess. Jesse, yes, but not Jess. Pairing two opposing genders together (in this particular context, not in general life) makes sense to me. Whereas Dean and Rory sound like two males to me, as does Logan and Jess. I think there was something in those names that was intentional. I think the writers of Gilmore Girls must have meant Jess and Rory to be the OTP of their show, and they let everyone know through their names - just a thought.

There is nothing perfect about relationships. Of course, the one between Jess and Rory was littered with indiscretions and indecisions, a thousand terrible little things. I think, though, what was special about those two was their apparent incompatibility. The best relationships, in my opinion, are those of which people disagree with. They have the power from the outset to withstand any issues within them because they have spent so long fighting against the people who don't believe they can manage. Jess and Rory are my favourite Gilmore Girls couple because there was nothing really wrong with them, except Jess' lack of expressed emotion of course. Logan was an arrogant shit who treated Rory as if she was disposable and acted carelessly. She never could have handled that relationship longterm because Logan was irresponsible and had too strong a hold on her emotions. And Dean, anyone who likes Dean and Rory is denying reality because a first love is hardly ever the one for either person. A first love is naive and painful, and it's often right for that point in your life but as both people change, it becomes less and less workable. Dean was never made for anything more than small-town life. That he got married before Rory had lost her virginity speaks to that. He had no further plans for his life... It just seemed like he would hold Rory back. 

So, yes, I am a Jess girl. And I don't care whether people think that Jess had a bad influence on Rory, or that he hurt her. Because love hurts, it does. Still, the reward is greater than all the trouble. Jess gave the greatest reward to Rory, both independence and the capability to deal with pain. He helped her to rebel, and she helped him to realise the importance of education and hard work and being a good person. They helped each other along, no matter how strange and awkward. I want a Jess because I want to be able to feel as good as I feel watching these two get to know each other in my own relationships. I want to wake up and know that the person I am with may not be the one, but will give me the most, that I will help them and they will change me for the better. I want someone who reminds me that work and "the path" is not all there is, that to be a success I don't have to pass my exams or go to uni or whatever else. Maybe to achieve my aims, it might be, but that is not the only way to happiness.

I think I have found this person in my life, the one person who makes me feel as though I am normal who both hurts me and gives me intense happiness. He may not be as intelligent as Jess, but he is fascinating, and he is not tied down by the rules. He does not want the normal, but he does not want the bad life. I think, perhaps, he might already have changed me, without either one of us realising. He gives me endless reasons to want to be with him... Now if only I could make him feel for me...

I (Unexpectedly) Enjoyed The Other Woman... Huh?

So, the other day, I went to the cinema with a friend. I was hoping (so hard) that she'd choose to watch X-Men or the new Spiderman movie. But, no. I was dragged, not kicking and screaming because I was trying incredibly hard to be nice, to watch The Other Woman. Yes, that revengey chick flick with Cameron Diaz and Kate Upton and, for some strange reason, Nicki Minaj. I, {Undesirable}, whose favourite movies include the insane, the crude and the hysterical, watched three woman plot against their joint ex-beau. 

Unsurprisingly, I went in doubtful. But I was feeling laughy anyway because a) really amusing conversations and; b) the trailers before the movie were really fucking strange. I mean I nearly curled up into a ball at the shock, horror, intrigue and excitement that I felt at the trailer for Walking On Sunshine (But seriously, it looks amazingly horrifying. I want to see it, but I really don't want to want to see it. It's one of those strange desires you can't make stop...). The first few scenes, I felt like I had just become the most sceptical bitch ever. I kept pointing out those really stupid bits like the fact they were having sex in a hotel room with the door left open. I know, I know, but things like that really annoy me. Except I had to stop because the guy who cheats on them all is Nikolaj Coster-Waldau, who is obviously very attractive and therefore watching him be attractive was good.

Anyway, I thought I would hate the movie because the concept, for one, is so ugh. And also because Kate Upton has no waist. I know it isn't really a real reason but really she has no waist at all. How can you be attractive without a waist!? Look! 

Seriously though, I love Kate Upton, I adore her face so much. I think she is gorgeous. Like, damn girl look at that face! She looks like a modern-day Marilyn Monroe forreal.

I also think it must really hurt to have such large boobs (I have back issues anyway, I cannot imagine what it would be like if I had actual serious boobs) but good on her for making a career out of them. Girl should save that money though because age hits boobs hard. But, yet again, I need to point out that there is no waist there. I just cannot understand how a body that celebrated has so little waist definition. It makes so little sense.

Wow, that was such a sidenote. I got distracted. I love her face so much. It's the cutest...

ANYWAY, the point is, I really was surprised to find that I actually liked the movie quite a bit. It was strangely brilliant to see three women stand together against a man. Rather than females flocking to males, in this movie all of the women abandoned the man who had been messing them around. And the best thing to see was a woman who had been married almost since she left college gain the strength to leave her husband, even after such a long time. I definitely did not enjoy the revenge element. It was fucking harsh to see the guy with his face smashed in, his whole body bloodied and then punched in the nose. But it was so nice to see all three of them free of him. 

Oh, I almost forgot. Even better is the fact that at the end of the movie, the 'wife', Kate, who is played by Leslie Mann is shown simply as being a career girl. There is no 'new love' addition to her storyline, and that I like. I do not like, however, that Kate Upton's character, Amber, ends up with a five or six-time divorced potential grandfather. I just feel as if this makes her character one of those who are used until he is done with that and then moves on. It seems a bit shit. I do like Cameron Diaz's character's storyline, mainly because Taylor Kinney (who she ends up with) is hot, but also because she has been strong and independent for as long as it has worked for her and she realises that it is not an actual way to live her life. For some people that works, but she sees that it does not and she finds someone she loves and settles down. That is how it should be, even though it - unfortunately - hardly ever is.

To sum it up, The Other Woman was a pretty decent movie, with good intelligent humour throughout and surprisingly believable characters. They played to the dumb blonde stereotype with Amber and to the incredibly intelligent and hard-working opposite blonde with Carly. We even had an awesome black girl in the form of Nicki (I loved her. I really did not want to love her but I did.) I think all of the characters were wonderfully likeable, even the cheating Mark. Even though I recognise it to have portrayed females in a vengeful and negative light, it portrays males equally badly. As a feminist, I greatly appreciate that the two genders are presented as equally bad and childish, but for once the people who deserved the win actually won. So no, I did not hate it. It was not the worst movie I have ever seen and I do not regret the money I spent on that cinema ticket. 

Thank you and goodnight.